Heroes of Skyrim
by Juan2three
Summary: Skyrim is a cold and hard land that forges only the mightiest of heroes and warriors. It is long and deadly road to Greatest but these heroes will give their all to be the very best. So when the Dragonborn come calling for aid, they will answer with Steel and Arcane fury on their foes.


Bounty Hunting

East of Whiterun,

The Ritual Stone

The Redguard warrior took a long gulp of the healing potion before tossing the empty vial over his shoulder.

'Gods damn necromancers' he thought as he watches the dark elf headless body jerk as the last bit of life leave the body.

Flexing his arm and holding his shoulder, he waited for the feeling return to his joints after being blasted with a frostbite spell. He surveys the area around the standing stone before taking a sit on a broken pillar nearby. His eyes drawn to the stones he wondered what this one does, he had touched a stone before on his way to Riverwood from Helgan and it lit up with a beam of light in the shooting up in the sky strangely strengthening his sword arm so he knew that they hold some kind of power and this is what likely drew the necromancer to this place.

"That was easier than I thought it would be' He thought

A novice necromancer and two walking skeletons is not much of a challenge so he job was completed, he took out the bounty note he got from the barkeeper in the tavern and read it once more.

Strange noises were being heard by travelers and Merchants as they came and went from Whiterun to Eastmarch and the Rift. Some even went missing entirely and that's bad for business and for the Jarl Reputation to protect his hold. Couldn't be bandits or thugs, even if they kill you because you were being stubborn with your coin purse, they wouldn't take the bodies. It had to be this necromancer here, who else would have uses for dead bodies. But something feels wrong, something is still missing.

Where are the bodies?

Just as the thought settled on his mind he heard low grunting and heavy footstep, thuds and loud and hard breathing. Drawing his Dwarven sword from its Scabbard, one of two he had belted on his waist. The fire enchantment on the blade took effect and glowed red as arcane flames came pouring out the ageless metal.

The Standing stone was built on a naturally raised platform of earth with ancient stone steps leading up to the top from the eastern side, he began wandering the edges looking down to find the source of what he heard, the sounds came again, this time from below the buff to the west. Peering over the rocks he saw a track leading under the rocks and out of sight.

'Must be a cave'

Maybe that's where the bodies are. He went down the steps and around the rock buff circling the area and sure enough there was a cave. A split in the rock face made an entrance where a draft of damp air was coming out. Greywinter Watch was carved in the stone at the cave mouth. Readying his Targe Shield he steps into the darkness with the flames of his sword acting as a troch.

The entrance to Greywinter Watch was narrow and high which lead into open space and that's where he laid eyes on them.

Human shaped muscular beast, hunched over with long arms almost touching the cave floor. Three fingered hands each ending with deadly four-inch-long black claws. Ugly targe-like spurs sprung out from its shoulders and head. But what make the monster distinct was its long jagged teeth and the third eye set in the middle of its forehead.

"Trolls" he whispers.

Crouching down and sheathing his blade before the trolls spotted him, he makes preparation to attack, only the fools rush trolls and he no fool. The hide of the trolls looks thick and hard and its body was covered in brownish fur which made it menacing ugly, on top of that trolls are known to regenerate wounded body parts very fast, faster than a skinny mage running away from battle trying to cast healing spells. It's good that he brought his fire enchanted sword. Trolls don't like fire and his shield would block most of its claw attacks, those ugly black things can tear into his flesh in a fury of brute pommels and claw attacks.

Although he trusted traditional armor he would rely on the little magic that he knew. Magic was not his thing but anyone with brains would know that mage armor and healing spells are sometimes the only thing between you and death. He quietly casted an Oak flesh armor spell for added protection and coated his other blade with a paralysis poison, he would deal with the trolls one at a time.

Pulling an arrow from the quiver that slung over his back he coated it also, and readied it in the bow he bought at the drunken huntsman. Taking aim and a deep breath, he let loose the arrow which struck true in the abdomen of the troll at the back of the he cave paralyzing it insanely. The other troll, now aware that there is an intruder in its den rush towards the entrance.

Before the warrior could pull his sword the troll was already in arm's reach. The monster swings it right arm as he barely ducks out the way from the long limb that about to claw his face off and would have done so if he hadn't brought his shield up in time to block the other arm. As he parried the blow to the left as he spun with a rotating strike that caught the troll behind the leg. The blade cleaved the troll's flesh the poison seep into its body contracting every muscle as it moves through its body except the lungs, the poison was design that way, to keep its victim alive.

Falling to the ground it the same pose it had reared up to strike again, the warrior quickly finishes it off by stabbing it in its third eye. By this time the paralysis effect had worn off the other troll now engulf by rage as it stomps the ground and wailed its arms around like a madman.

'Now it is a battle'.

The troll had rushing down the earthen made ramp on the side of the crave and the warrior drew his Fire enchanted sword once more. The troll had begun its wild antics again and had pulled out the arrow and the wound had already healed up. This was the regenerative secret he always wanted and already had alchemical recipe for, he just need the ingredient to make it which was now fire as the arcane flames of his sword leap onto its body after slashing it on it shoulders. The trolls let out a gruesome roar as the flames burns flesh.

Now even angrier the troll violently banging away on his shield, as it rises it arms for a second barrage of attacks he trusts his shield forward bashing the troll in its face and as it staggers back and the final blow is dealt. A flaming strike straight through its chest.

The deed is done, two trolls lay dead and he had found the missing bodies, only they were bodies anymore but skulls, dozens of them either scatter on the floor or lined off on the high rise part of the cave. Getting to work, he began skinning the trolls, although the hide would sell that's not what he was after. Cutting away the layer between the hide and muscle, he began packing troll fat in five jars, it was prized for its alchemical properties. Taking out a dagger he cut off the trolls' head and drain their blood, not only their fat but their blood also holds alchemical use, the secret the troll's regenerative abilities are hidden here but few alchemists know this. He counted himself amount the better of alchemist because not only can he brew potions and poisons, he can hunt down and gather ingredients by himself.

Wandering around the cave, the warrior picked some bleeding crown and some white caps native to caves like these, they thrive in damp air of skyrim's caves. Heading up to the back of the cave he found two dead bandits, from the looks of the tent and barrels the bandits found the crave occupied it when was the trolls out. Sucks to be them especially when they should have seen the skulls littering the floor.

As he ran though their pockets he found some coin and an enchanted bow one with a stamina drain effect, could be useful in the future. As he continued to search the bandit he suddenly had a bad feeling in his throat as body screamed at him.

Then it happens, quietly at first, as a whisper traveling from far.

The ground rumble as the skulls roll around and the cave walls vibrated spitting out dusk and debris.

"What in Oblivion!"

It was a mad dash to get out of the cave and into the afternoon sunshine, sprinting to the entrance he grabs his troll fat and vials of blood. Then the deafening sound came like thunder rolling he covered his ear and the blast echoed in what seem to be all directions, barely making it out of the cave he kneels down to catch his breath,

'What was someone's voice?'

It couldn't be, a voice couldn't do that but still, he heard it, a voice and it said something. Something he didn't understand. He was sure it was a different language.

"Dovahkin"... he whispered repeating after thundering shout.


End file.
